The Last Word
by TheDeadlyColera
Summary: A series of one-shots featuring significant conversations between our favorite couple.


Bulma sat on the couch, weeping openly. She'd arrived home not five minutes prior, and already she'd torn through the entire house, breaking knick-knacks, shredding photographs, screeching at the top of her lungs and cursing everything with a penis: pretty much on par with what you'd expect from someone who'd just caught her boyfriend of more than a decade sitting on a park bench with his tongue rammed down some bimbo's throat. Why, oh, why couldn't _she_ be that bimbo?

"Happy FUCKING Valentine's Day, Yamcha!" she roared as she shoveled an entire box full of cute little teddy bears (all gifts from the man, himself) into the fireplace before dousing them in lighter fluid and setting them ablaze. She mentally congratulated herself on her maturity as she watched them burn.

But now the rage and adrenalin induced fog had cleared from her mind, leaving only a sense of betrayal and sorrow. Not sorrow for the loss of her lover. Oh, no, sir! She was just pissed at herself for having wasted so many years on a skirt-chasing, cowardly, social reject like him. Sure, she'd convinced herself she was in love with him, for a time. But then, Bulma had always been good at fooling herself. She was a hopeless romantic, through and through, and she could be quite clueless when it came to men. Give 'em a six pack, a good heard of hair, and a dangerous mystique, and she was hooked. She blamed her mother.

So now, here she was, thirty - *ahem, mumble-mumble*- years old, in her parents' living room, stuffing Belgian chocolates in her face like it was going out of style, mascara running down her face in big black gobs, ruing the day that Oolong had stolen her wish, forever dooming her to the world of cheating boyfriends, singles' cruises, and eventual spinsterhood.

"Fucking pig and his panties..." she mumbled to herself, opening a second box of chocolates, and wondering how long she'd hold out before she broke into the liquor cabinet.

"Well, woman, I didn't think it was possible, but you look even uglier than usual. And talking to yourself? I congratulate you on achieving a new level of insanity," came a voice from the doorway.

Slowly, she turned toward the absolute LAST thing in the universe she wanted to see at the moment (and that included every villain, pervert, and boring-ass board member she'd ever faced). There in the hall, with the smirk to end all smirks on his face, was the bane of her existence, Vegeta: Prince of all Sadistic Jack-Offs. Oh, this day just kept getting better and better...

Vegeta had sensed the woman as soon as she'd entered the compound. Based on her wildly fluctuating ki, he surmised that she was either dying, or brilliantly pissed. Either way, he wanted to be there to see it. Not two milliseconds after the thought crossed his mind, the door had slammed, thus initiating a veritable shit storm of invective the likes of which even Freeza had never accomplished.

Ahh. He had his answer.

Turning off the gravity simulator, he made his way into the house, toward the source of chaos. He was just in time to catch the last of her furious destruction of the fuzzy little creatures (all the while cursing that blithering idiot she called a boyfriend) before she suddenly burst into tears , threw herself down on the couch, and began her quest to make herself obese. Aww... the poor woman was heartbroken.

He grinned evilly.

Now... _how_ could he make this worse?

Insulting her looks and mental stability usually worked. Imagine his surprise when not only did she NOT fly into a demonic rage, as per usual, - flinging insults so creative and vile that he was forced to applaud her in his mind – but rather, she did _nothing!_ She merely sat there, staring at him with a blank look on her face, not even bothering to wipe the smears of chocolate from her mouth.

He blinked. "Woman, did you hear me?"

"…"

More staring.

Hmmm... curious, indeed, this lack of reaction. Perhaps he should try a different tactic.

"Well, what's all the fuss about this time, hmm? Oh, wait, don't tell me! Let me guess: that weakling mate of yours? Yes, that_ must_ be it. Have you finally realized that you're tied to, quite possibly, the most worthless sack of human refuse in existence?"

_Ah, here it comes_, he thought, anticipating the blistering hatred and stream of verbal abuse... Only it never came. What did come, however, nearly caused his eyes to bug out of his head in shock and confusion.

"Yup."

_Huh? _Something was off. She should be screaming like a banshee, hurling household objects at his head, trying to disembowel him with a soup ladle... SOMETHING! But there she was, calmly _agreeing _with him? It was decidedly odd. Vegeta didn't like odd. Odd was unpredictable. Unpredictable caused trouble. Trouble meant annoyance. And where Vegeta is concerned, annoyance equals seething rage.

How dare she deny him the verbal spar he desired? He was a _prince_, damn it! Not to mention of a superior race. The woman should be bowing and scraping before him. She should be fucking _honored_ that he even deigned to speak to her pathetic human self!

Bulma sat back on the couch, watching the thoughts play across the alien's face, mentally rolling her eyes. _Arrogant bastard_. He looked ready to burst a vein. He didn't need to speak for her to know he was delivering yet another sermon on his superiority._ Probably thinks I should be _honored_ he's even deigning to speak to my pathetic human self._

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, woman?" Vegeta roared. He wanted to know why the woman wasn't responding to his barbs, and he wanted his answers yesterday.

"Just what you said, bud. I've been dating a 'worthless piece of human refuse'." She sighed tiredly.

"Uh… wha-?" Okay, now he was really confused. The woman had always stoutly defended her 'wittle Yam-chops'. And now, here she was, informing him that the other man was, indeed, woefully inadequate?

"I caught the bastard cheating on me. On Valentine's Day, no less. I'd like to say that I'm shocked, but he always did have a wandering eye…. Well, doesn't really matter anymore. We're through," the blue-haired woman elaborated.

Vegeta, being not of this world, so to speak, was not privy to the ins and outs of human courtship. Therefore, he hadn't the faintest idea what the woman meant by this 'cheating'. His curiosity was definitely piqued, though. And if the Saiyan Prince had had a weakness, curiosity would have been it. "Cheating?," he asked, trying to sound disinterested. It simply wouldn't do for the woman to think he actually CARED.

"Yeah. Doing it with other women. You know, doing the nasty, bumping uglies, playing 'hide the salami'. Any number of colorful euphemisms. You follow?" she said, arching a fine blue brow at his apparent cluelessness.

Blushing profusely at the mental images brought on by the woman's vulgarity, Vegeta replied, "Indeed. Although for the sake of my sanity, I wish I didn't."

"Well, you asked," she pointed out.

"Hn."

Seeing the Saiyan's obvious discomfort with the subject, Bulma decided to have a little fun at his expense. "What's the matter, Geta? Does this particular topic make you… **uncomfortable?**" she snickered.

The prince's already red face darkened further as he searched for an excuse to leave and end this conversation that had suddenly gone waaaaaaaaaay beyond his comfort zone. Finding none, he decided to use his go to move.

"Shut up, woman, and make me a sandwich!"

But the blue haired woman would give no quarter. "Oh-ho-ho! Is the mighty Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans, actually **blushing?** A little **embarrassed**, are we?" The thought of someone like Vegeta being such a prude was almost to hilarious to bear. This conversation was certainly starting to cheer her up. "What's the matter, Veggie? Are you **shyyyyyy?**" She emphasized her point by leaning over the arm of the couch until she was only inches from his burning face.

"Uh- I- Umm- Well, that is to say…" he trailed off, slanting his gaze to the floor. _Blasted vulgar woman! How dare she mock me in such a manner?_

"Oh, Geta, you are just tooooo precious sometimes," she giggled as she got up, sauntering seductively (well, as seductively as one can whilst coated in chocolate stains, mascara, and tears) towards the door. When she reached it, she threw over her shoulder, "You really are just sooooo cute!" before skipping out of the room and upstairs to wash up.

_3… 2… 1…_

"**I AM NOT CUTE!"**

_Ahh…. The sweet sounds of enraged Saiyan. Music to my ears._

How she **adored** getting the last word in.


End file.
